Freefall
by The13thGirlWithoutASoul
Summary: I looked around the place. It was dimly lit enough so that she wouldn't notice my face yet, but I still had to wonder.


**Title: Freefall**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: I looked around the place. It was dimly lit enough so that she wouldn't notice my face yet, but I still had to wonder.**

* * *

When I walked into the bar I was slightly relieved.

It was not my kind of place, but almost. The air was fresh-smelling, the floors were clean, and the drinks were too expensive for me. I wasn't among my kind of people (my 'kind of people' gathered in places a little cheaper that smelled of smoke) but this place was acceptably central to Magix nightlife yet low-class enough that I didn't stand out with my generic-brand dress and fake boots.

I like the darkness, so I didn't notice how dim it was in the bar until I saw the reason for the low lights: a small, brightly lit stage was set up next to the bar where a black-dressed, all male band was playing, obviously just a backing for the female vocalist at the front.

Her face was devoid of any sultry makeup and her dark hair was simply dressed, at odds with the gauzy, completely transparent top and bright red bra she wore over tight jeans. A little trashy, just like the bar. Her song seemed familiar to me, as if I had heard it before, but I couldn't call up the words.

I took a seat near the front of the stage; the bar was only moderately full and I still felt like I knew the song or something. When it ended the girl called out her thanks at the light clapping all around the bar and her eyes searched the crowd.

They landed on me and I knew where I knew her. She knew, too, and muttered something to the nearest musician, who nodded to all the others. An instrumental began to play as she stepped down and sat opposite from me with an touch of uncertainty.

"I didn't think I'd see you around these parts." she said, not happy but not afraid, and why should she be? As long as I wear the implant (which will be probably forever) I'm not a threat. It's not a tracking device, but it will be if I ever use my attack powers or if I'm not at my checkpoint in a few months. All the others can see is a little green patch on my neck, but they all know what it means. "How about I buy you a drink? I get them for free on the nights I sing, you know."

I didn't know, but I did nod and ask if they had Magix-brand beer, which they must've, because she leaned back towards the bartender and procured one almost immediately, sliding it across the table towards me. As soon as I touched the glass the fake goodwill disappeared, replaced with cool apathy. Our days of hatred were behind us. We hadn't fought in over five years.

"Musa." I said quietly.

"Darcy." replied Musa, equally soft. "How have you been doing?" the comment was as if we were friends but there was no concern in her voice, only curiosity.

"I assume you know about this," I said, tapping the green patch. A little gold dot in the center that means I got on parole blinked when I touched it. Musa nodded. "I—I'm back in town because of Stormy."

"She got out?" Musa said. She sounded unconcerned but I detected a trace of fear in her eyes. Part of me grinned cruelly. "Uh—parole, right?"

"They only gave her five years. That new doctrine about being born into a crime or something. She got out early from that—four years, I guess."

"You visiting her?" Musa asked and I shook my head.

"Not exactly." Good Dragon, please don't make me tell her. "She was in the hospital. ICU."

"My note, what happened?" Musa said. Now she was interested, if not concerned.

"I...don't know. Fell in with some kind of mercenary group. OD'd and then attacked some guy who was stronger then her."

"Sweet Melody." Musa breathed. I had her concern but I didn't want it. Please don't make me tell her. But then I did.

"She's dead." the words came out quickly. I learned to say things fast and get them over with. "From the drugs and the beatings and she hadn't taken care of herself and she was an alcoholic."

Musa covered her mouth. Maybe it was just the description but that grinning part of me giggled a little. "I'm...sorry." she said the words unconvincingly, but I don't mind. She's not sorry. I barely am, because witches are never sorry, I'm fairly sure.

"Yeah," I sipped my beer to wet my lips. "I guess there isn't much else to do; Magix refuses to bury her. I didn't want..." I trailed off. I didn't want what? I didn't want her to join them? When she came to my place drunk and reeking I washed her off and slapped her once she woke up?

"Will they let Icy go to the funeral?" Musa asked. My mouth dropped open, then shut with a snap.

"You don't know?" I feel like I'm choking, like I'm suffocating, like I'm going to cry again, with my eyeliner and mascara running down my face and my sobs coming in great heaves like I've never cried before, not even when I was little, with my throat raw and my eyes stinging and the feeling like you've been hit with a banshee convergence spell—like some huge part of you has been ripped away and replaced with stone and sadness.

No, no, no. Not in front of the pixie.

"She's...dead...too. Executed upon capture." my eyes didn't fill with tears, to my pleasant surprise. Perhaps the loss was less when you didn't actually love the person who's died. I keep telling myself I didn't love her. "They didn't announce it until after it was done. They were afraid of the Winx intervening."

Musa sighed. "They didn't, did they?"

"Who, the Magical Three?" my mouth curled in a tired smirk. Perhaps I would be angry with this ex-Club member if I hadn't forgotten why I was fighting when Icy died. "How are they doing these days?"

"Her Illuminative Majesty Queen Bloom of Sparx is probably going to have having another child. That makes eight in six years of marriage." Musa replied, rolling her eyes. I copied the action.

"Can I be surprised? She and Blondie were all over each other in your Alfea days."

Musa shrugged. "I can't believe how different everything was six years ago." she whispered and I rolled my eyes. This again?

"Well, we certainly weren't sharing drinks then." I said. Six years ago everything was different. The Winx Club had Tecna, Layla, and Musa, for one, and the Trix were all alive.  
"Flora was texting me the other day, but then Stella came over and she stopped. She's the only one I miss." one day last year, three Winx were leaving the club. The news was all over it. I didn't really know what happened and voiced this.

"Everyone loved Flora. Fairy of pretty flowers, all pink and green, sensitive boyfriend and all sweet and kind. The most famous non-princess Winx. So when they separated—"

"They what?"

"Bloom and Stella fired us, basically. They said we were all going to separate, and I thought they'd end the Winx altogether. Only...Flora, Stella, and Bloom lied; they didn't separate, and that remaining half of the Winx Club preached about separation and how it was for the best. And then they franchised and anyone could be an Honorary Member."

"Wow," I muttered, "Backstabbers much?"

"They bullied Flora into it. I refuse to believe she would do something like that on her own. Besides, she's told me how sorry she is but how she can't do anything. When they purged the non-royalty and Layla, they kept her for her popularity."

"...oh." I hadn't expected her to tell me this much. She buried her head in her heads.

"I cannot believe I'm telling you this. I never told anyone else about the crap that went down, not even my dad," she went on. "But since you're...I guess, all the Trix that's left...I have to thank you."

This was unexpected. I frowned. "Why?"

"You bonded us. Even if there isn't really a Winx Club anymore, there was in Alfea and I had the best friends a girl could ask for. It's when you were captured that Bloom and Stella stopped thinking of as friends and more as...associates, I suppose."

Great, now she's getting all mushy about her pixie pals. But she had listened to me about Icy and Stormy and there was no one to tell me I'm stupid for listening to her, so I don't say anything and use the moment to sip my quickly-warming beer.

"Timmy and Tecna run a corporation, but I don't think they date anymore. Layla is a widow forever, she says. You know the Eric and Stella thing, right? And Flora and Helia just make me so sick."

"She shouldn't freaking take anything from that sadistic bastard." I say in a moment of anger towards Helia. I don't care about Flora. I really couldn't care less what happened to her. But...still. "I don't know why they're together."

"Fell down the stairs my ass. And him taking that younger Linphean slut to Bloom's wedding. Flora never gets sick, and even if she did, what excuse does that give him to go with Princess Krystal?" Musa practically growled. There's silence and this silence is tense.

There's one thing I want to know. I mean, I don't care anymore, but Musa did and it feels like asking about a sick relative. "How about...you know?"

"Riven?" she whispered, and her eyes get dewy. Great. I've set something off. "Have you heard from him? He left me a long time ago, you see." she gave a scornful smile. "Never was...good for him, I suppose."

"Too good for him." I said matter-of-factly, narrowing my eyes. "He had more dark energy then one of Icy's curses."

"Oh." she says. "He actually did come back a few months ago. He was high and he couldn't remember leaving me—oh, Dragon, it was..."

"Unemployed? Addict?" I asked. She nodded her head.

"Probably."

"It's...a shame. He was really smart." I said in a rush, looking away. He was, and it is.  
Suddenly the instrumental fades. The head musician beckons to Musa and she glares at him before looking back at me. Her break is over.

"Look, I don't know why, but I'm—I'm glad I saw you tonight and we talked. I'm really sorry about your sisters. It sounds strange, but I am, and—well, I have to go now, so..."

I don't know why I asked her, but I did. "Can I have your phone number? So we can text if we want?" it sounded so idiotic I fought not to clap a hand over my mouth. What a stupid thing to say. You're not still at Cloud Tower, are you, Darcy? She's not your friend. "I mean, if I hear from Riven I'll need to tell you—"

"I don't think so." she said, plainly, and little sadly. There's no meanness in her tone. Suddenly she brightens.

"If you've got a MagixProfile, friend me." she said. "And if you ever need anything an ex-Winx can get you, I sing here every Friday." She laughs. "It'll do the Magical Three good to see an ex-member fraternizing with the enemy." and with that she turned back to the stage.

She nods to me as she's stepping up onto the stage. I nod back and push the door open.

We go our separate ways again.


End file.
